


Slingshot

by Zatashaa



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Irondad, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Time Travel, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 15:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17531582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zatashaa/pseuds/Zatashaa
Summary: Tony wakes with a start.  Writes down what he remembers.Park, Pepper.Stephen Strange, Bruce.Spaceship.  Fight.Peter.Crashing. Red.Dust.It's not much, but nobody can remember much.  Time shot forward and back, leaving shadows in place of memories.And when time shot forward and back, it took Peter with it.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony wakes up with a start. Images still blast on the back of his eyelids, impossible colors and flashes.  He drags a breath through his nose, out through his mouth.  _Just a dream_ , he tells himself, _just a dream._ But then he turns to Pepper and sees her already staring at him, blue eyes wide and unblinking in panic.   _Shit._

“Tony.” It’s relief, but it’s also a question.  “Tony.  What…?”

And then he knows. It wasn’t a dream.

Tony tries to remember, the way that you do with a nightmare when you wake up and can already feel it slipping away.  He throws his arm out, gropes his nightstand.  Silences his screaming phone, grabs paper and writes it down.

_Park, Pepper._

_Stephen Strange, Bruce._

_Spaceship.  Fight._

_Peter._

_Crashing. Red._

_Dust._

But the memories start slipping through too quickly, and it’s like trying to scoop water through your fingers.  He can’t hold on to them.

Pepper tries the same, but she tries aloud.  She chews her lip.  “We went running, and there was a portal, and Bruce… and then you left.”  She shakes her head, looks at him.  “I don’t remember.  I don’t know…”  Her words trail off.  Tony’s phone start ringing.  He furrows his brow, reaches for it.  But it’s not his Stark Phone.  He flips it open without thinking.

“Tony.”  Steve’s voice is deathly serious.  “We need to talk.”

* * *

 

The morning goes like this:  Steve, Sam, Natasha and Wanda on one side of the table, Rhodey, Vision Tony and Bruce on the other.  Dr. Strange is standing, pacing.  Shaken.  He repeats the same things he said as soon as he portaled in with Bruce.

“I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted.  I don’t even remember all of what happened.  But we won.  I’m sure of it.  For us to be here now-- we had to have…”

Tony’s eyes fade to the news report playing silently on the wall.  New York is in panic, but it’s the quiet type.  Nobody is rioting.  They stay inside, safe, trapped in their own minds.  It’s a game of who can remember what, who can remember why.  All those reporters making wild subjugation, proposing wild theories to explain what nobody knows.  They tell about as much as Tony guesses- That sometime around two AM, time shot forward and then slung back again.  That everyone woke up with vague memories of something horrible happening. That with every second that passed, those memories of spaceships and aliens and crashes and destruction and dust fade away.

Pepper knocks on the glass door, lets herself in, looking at Tony.  “It’s May Parker,” she says, “she’s been calling Happy and me all morning.”

Tony’s heart sinks but he doesn’t know why.  Doesn’t want to think about it too hard.  He leaves the room and grabs the phone from Pepper—he knows he won’t miss much in there, anyway.

“Tony?  Thank god, I finally got you.  Is Peter there?”  May’s voice is panicked.

Tony grips the phone tighter.  There’s something big and ugly pushing at the back of his mind, demanding release.  A door he's avoided opening all morning.   _Peter.  Air._

“Tony?  Are you there?”

Tony clears his throat, buys himself time.  “Yeah, May.  Sorry.  What do you mean, is Peter here?”

“It’s just… when everyone woke up… I looked for Peter and he wasn’t in his room.”

_Peter. Air.  Fight.  Red._

“I… he’s not here.  You sure he’s not jumping around Queens in his pajamas, doing that Spider-thing he does?”

He can hear May’s breath hitch on the other end of the line.

“He wouldn’t just leave on a morning like this.  Not without checking in with me.”  She says it with certainty, before pausing like she doesn’t know how to continue.  “Tony… I don’t remember much, but I think that he left with you when…whatever happened.”

_Peter.  Air. Fight. Red.  Dust._

_“Mr. Stark.”_

Tony stops breathing. 

_“I don’t feel so good.”_

An embrace that turns to nothing.

_“I’m sorry.”_

He drops the phone.

* * *

 

They’ve had different iterations of the same conversation, over and over. 

“Bullshit.  You’re the time guy.”

“This is more complicated than time.  This is space, this is reality—“

“But you were _there.”_

“So were you, Tony.”  Strange’s voice softens.  “We both were.  I don’t know… I can’t put the pieces together.  I wish I could.  There were other players, other things at stake."  He takes a deep breath.  His hands haven't stopped shaking all day.  "But whatever I did… whatever _we_ did… we did it to save life on Earth.  We made sure the timeline was correct here.  I don’t know how that affected life elsewhere.”  He claps Tony on the shoulder.  “I can’t stay here.  I need to go back to the Sanctum, try and figure out what happened.  Or what’s going to happen, at least.”  He stands.  “I’ll… keep a lookout for the boy.”  He knows it isn’t enough, but he can’t give Tony anything more than that.  A nod, a portal, and the wizard is gone.

Tony clenches his fist.  Darkness has long since fallen outside.  They’re approaching the 24-hour mark since time…did whatever it did.  Went forward and then back, took its memories with it and only left shadows.  By now, almost everyone has forgotten the missing hours, the missing days.  The reporters have stopped talking about aliens and dust.  Instead, they talk about mass hallucinations, about how hysteria and panic can convince entire populations of untruths.

But Peter still isn’t home.

_“Mr. Stark.”_

_“I don’t feel so good.”_

Tony closes his eyes, runs his fingers through his hair.  Tries to remember what came after the red and the dust.

_“I’m sorry.”_

* * *

 

He searches.  By god, he searches.  It starts small—Vision running through surveillance footage, looking for any trace of Peter Parker.  Natasha reaching through her outlets, ear to the ground for chatter about a seventeen year old boy with abnormal abilities.  They turn up nothing.  No Peter, no body.  Not even a whisper.

When it becomes clear that Peter isn’t to be found on Earth, Tony goes higher.  Launches Stark satellites to peer further into the dark.  Works with Bruce and Rhodey to build deep space probes, send them off with NASA’s approval.  They say they’re looking for abnormalities, for the next threat.  An advanced warning.  They say that, because they’d be crazy to search space for a 17-year-old kid.

By the time Tony is launching satellites, the whole team’s moved back to the Compound.  “We have to be ready,”  Steven told him that first day, “whatever’s out there, they know who we are now.  They know we won.”  The Accords have faded away, Ross has faded away, because they’re scared too.  There’s fear of the known, and then there’s fear of the unknown—and ever since that day, the unknown has felt a lot more daunting.

So they start coming together again.  Steve leads the effort, as expected, but Tony holds up his end of the bargain.  He builds them everything they need to become a team again.  They train in the gym, they train in the compound.  They have meetings and strategize and start working with Wakanda.  Friends pop by—Scott Lang and his suit, Clint and his wisecracks.  Even Bucky will sometimes shadow T’Challa on trips, never holding direct conversations with Tony, but at least they’re in the same room.  It’s the strongest the team has ever been, the best defenders the Earth could hope for.

But Tony can’t stop gazing into space.

* * *

 

Months pass.  There’s a small wedding on a white beach.  “I’m not changing my last name,” says Pepper.

“I didn’t expect you to,” says Tony.  He looks up into the sky. It’s habit.

More months pass.  There’s burnt coffee in a Queens apartment.  “I’m not having a funeral,” says May.

“I didn’t expect you to,” says Tony.  He looks into his mug.  That’s habit, too.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Steve’s predictions play out.  The Earth has visitors, more than before.  Other plants are sending their own investigators, their own versions of probes to gather information.  They crash through the atmosphere before they’re scooped up and taken back to the compound or Wakanda.  Tony spends hours in his lab dissecting them, cross-referencing their components with whatever Vision has on file.  Figuring out where they could be from, what they’re doing here.  Some are clearly instruments of science.  Some are set to explode.  But none carry the answers Tony is really looking for, none tell him _who_ or _what_ or _why._

Months pass, and the chunks of metal start to crash more frequently.  NASA and SHIELD covers it up—claims they’re meteorites from a far-off corner of the galaxy.  _Too be expected_ , they say as a bot makes a crater in Mongolia.  _All natural, unavoidable_ as one smashes into Brazil. 

Nick Fury stops by one day, face as serious as ever.  He sits at the head of the table and tells the team what they already know—that these probes are probably no coincidence, that they must be a sign of something bigger.  That they need to be ready for whatever might come.  “What do you think we’ve been doing,” Sam mumbles.  Tony can’t help but agree.  This is about as ‘ready’ as the Avengers have ever been.

As the team stands to leave, Fury holds Tony back.  “Stark,” he calls, “a word.”  Tony sits back down, stares at the man across from him.

“Look,” Fury says, “I know what you’re doing, but this has to stop.  You have to stop looking for him.”

Tony’s blood runs cold.  He stops breathing, then starts again.  “What are you talking about?”

“This thing you have…with the kid.  You have all your tech searching space for a teenager.  It’s a waste of resources and it’s distracting you.”  Fury sighs, drags his hand across his face.  “We might never know what happened that day.  If a motherfuckin’ wizard can’t answer our questions, nobody can.  But we need your head in this game.”  He looks at Tony then, straight on.  “All I’m saying is, you’re going down a rabbit hole.  Pull yourself back out before you can’t anymore.”  Fury stands up, walks to the door. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Tony finally speaks.

Fury levels with him.  “Because Tony Stark isn’t a man who chases ghosts.  He can’t be.”  He lets the door slam behind him.

* * *

 

But Tony doesn’t just chase ghosts—he stalks them.  He has Happy find out where Peter’s friends are going to college (that kid Ned who hacked his shit, and the girl [ _girlfriend?]_ MJ who scares him the way even Pepper never has), sets them up with anonymous scholarships.  He sends May flowers on her birthday, and stops by every few months for coffee.  One month he notices the cardboard boxes.

“They’re jacking up rent thanks to that new Amazon office in Queens,” May explains.  “Plus, I don’t need two bedrooms when it’s just-" she cuts herself off, blinks rapidly.

Tony clears his throat and jumps in.  “Let me cover rent, then.”  She moves to interrupt him, to stop him before he goes on.  “It’s not for you, May.  It’s for Pete.  I want him to have a place when he gets back.  A familiar place."

She shakes her head, smiling at him sadly.  No, not sadly—pityingly. 

May Parker doesn’t chase ghosts.  If she did, she’d have been chasing them her whole life.

* * *

 

Six weeks later, Tony is tearing apart some sort of advanced soil sampler.  He’s in his lab, music blaring when Pepper approaches him from behind.  He relaxes into her body as her hand covers his.  Then he feels her hand tighten.  

_Shit._

Something’s wrong.

He turns once again into those blue, panic-widened eyes.  His hand fumbles to switch off the music.  “Tony,” she murmurs, voice shaking, “it’s May.”

* * *

 

Pepper handles all of the arrangements, because she’s an angel and May didn’t have anyone else.  She gets the body from the hospital, where May had a fatal reaction to a chemotherapy drug, where she was being treated alone for early-stage breast cancer, because May didn’t have anyone else.  Pepper picks out the coffin and arranges the small but nice service and chooses the gravestone, because May didn’t have anyone else.  And then the day comes, and Pepper puts on her black coat and helps Tony with his black tie, and tells her husband the thing she’s been putting off for days.

“The cemetery we’re going to,” Pepper’s voice is close to a whisper.  “It’s where the whole Parker family is buried.  Richard, Mary, Ben…”

“That’s good,” Tony says absently, “that’s what people usual want, right?  An eternity of proximity...”

“Yes, well...  There are two open plots next to Ben’s.  I got one for May.  And the other…”

Tony’s eyes flash to hers.  Her hands are still frozen on his tie.  She blurts it out.  “I ordered a stone for Peter, too.  I think we should put it next to May’s.”

Tony’s eyes are wide on Pepper’s.  “You got him a stone?  What does it…What does it say?”  Does it say, here lies the boy who disappeared into time?  Does it say, _I’m Sorry?_

Pepper tells him it’s simple, just a name and birthdate and an _April 27, 2018_.  Pepper tells him that they can change it later, but she just felt like it was wrong to leave May there without Peter. 

Tony nods and thanks her, tells her she’s right.  Tells her that it’s the right thing to do.  But his ears are screaming with words he thought he forgot.

_I don’t know what’s happening._

_I'm sorry._

He’s not chasing Peter’s ghost.  He’s burying it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, we're getting serious now... aren't we?

They bury May in the snow.  One of May’s coworkers says some nice things, and then that kid Ned chokes through his own sentiments.  “If Peter were here…” he starts, and then Tony lets his focus slip.  Pepper gets up too, but Tony can only see the empty plot next to May’s.  There’s no gravestone there yet, but Tony is already imagining how it will look when they dig it into the snow.  He’s still staring at it, that clear patch of ground, when Pepper tugs his sleeve.  It’s time to go.

As he turns and walks numbly back to the car, he hears footsteps crunching the ice behind him.  “Uh, Mr. Stark?”  The kid is breathless.  Tony and Pepper turn, look into the wide face of Ned Leeds.  That girl, MJ, is standing paces behind him, looking suspicious and fierce against the snowy cemetery. “Uh, sorry to interrupt, Sir.  I know you’re busy and all, but you haven’t been responding to our emails, and MJ and I just wanted to say…” He trails off.

“What, kid?”

“Thanks.”  MJ pipes up from behind.  Her voice is many things in this moment, but grateful is not one of them.  “For throwing that money at us.  I’m sure Peter would be delighted to know his college fund is being well spent.  Wherever the hell you left him, anyways.”  She turns as soon as the words are out of her mouth and stalks away.  Tony can almost see her words following her, melting the snow in her path. 

_Wherever the hell you left him._

_I don’t know what’s happening._

_Please._

Ned starts nervously babbling again.  “She doesn’t… she’s just upset.  She was doing ok, but then with what happened to May…” Ned realizes the conversation is getting away from him, tries to reel it back in.  “Anyways, uh, thank you again, Mr. Stark.  Also, since she… since May is gone,” he swallows, “you’ll let us know?  Or I mean, someone will let us know?  If something else comes up?  About Peter?”

Tony lets out a breath of air.  “Yeah, kid.  Of course.”

Ned looks relieved, gives him a small smile.  “Cool, Mr. Stark.  Thank you.”  He chases off after MJ.

Pepper loops her hand back around his arm, and they walk silently back to the car.  Tony wonders what Ned’s face would have looked like if he had instead told him about the gravestone that’ll be dug in next to May’s by this time next week.

* * *

 

By the time the snow melts, Bucky is fully moved into the compound.  Tony builds him a small wing near the open lawn, along with quarters for Clint and Scott.  He tells Pepper it’s because he wants the guy to keep his distance, he tells Steve it’s because “I hear he’s Farmer Brown now, figured I’d give him easy access to some goats.”

Nobody mentions the perfectly good suite next to the Vision/Wanda residence, the one that’s been kept tidy but unoccupied since they all moved back.  Actually, Sam asked about it once—poked fun at the Hans Solo poster he caught a glimpse of, as a cleaning woman was inside dusting.  The minute the jest left his mouth, he wished he could reel it back in.  Tony’s face dropped like a steel wall, wiped clean as a sheet of paper.  The room was never mentioned again.

There are other changes as spring rolls around.  Objects are pelting the earth with far less frequency, so the team relaxes a little.  Clint hosts barbeques on the lawn when Scott’s daughter visits, Pepper goes a little overboard with moon bounce rentals for the few kids that show up. 

Nat is in and out of the compound, her hair color almost as unpredictable as whether or not she’ll be sidling out of Bruce’s room in the morning.  (The first time he tries to bring this up at a team breakfast, Pepper elbows Tony so hard in the side he almost coughs up a ball of cereal.)

Steve starts doing his good-boy appearances again, little by little.  When Tony flips on the TV one evening to see Cap pontificating about the dangers of vaping ( _Remember, Soldiers-- it’s cool not to Juul!)_ , he summons Rhodey down so urgently that the guy shows up half dressed with toothpaste all over his mouth, thinking there’s been some emergency. 

And then there are the smaller things.  There’s Wanda in the lounge almost every night, slouching in an oversized Vassar sweatshirt, books spread wide as Vision quietly tutors her through the tougher material.  There’s Sam introducing Bucky to the world of video games.  There’s Bucky, loosing brilliantly, throwing the controller to the couch—“I’m telling you, this controller wasn’t made for a metal arm!”—as Bruce laughs from behind his laptop.

But at the end of the day, after Pepper goes to bed and Bruce goes back to Nat and it’s just Tony in his lab, he sees these moments for what they are— _distractions._ Distractions from the gravestone with nothing underneath it, distractions from the kid that he left _wherever the hell_ in the universe.  Distractions from searching endless data, from searching endless space.  And Tony doesn’t want to get distracted.  If he gets too distracted, he might forget those shadows of memories, the way everyone else has seemed to.    And if he forgets those, what does he have left?

* * *

 

They’re training when they get the alert.  Well, _training_ in the loosest sense of the word—they’re all in the same general area, either throwing each other around on the mats or taking an “intellectual break” ( _science orgies,_ Sam calls them under his breath).  But then Tony’s phone starts blaring, followed by Steve and Rhodey and then everyone elses’.  It’s Nick Fury and Ross and all of Tony’s Early Warning Systems, telling them that shit is about to hit the fan.

In this case, “shit” is a massive unidentified object, and “the fan” is central Missouri.  None of their threat neutralization systems have been able to blast the thing out of the sky yet—it’s moving too fast, or its material is too thick.  Within minutes, the team is suited up and heading towards the jet.

“If this thing is as huge as it looks, what are we supposed to do about it?” huffs Natasha, settling into the pilot’s seat.  “Catch it?”

Steve shoots her a look.  “We do what we’ve been training to do.  Deal with whatever comes next.”

Tony tracks the trajectory of the object from the jet, watches as it crashes through the atmosphere.  Satellites show its final seconds, spinning through the sky before it leaves a crater in the middle of the Ozark foothills.

Bruce peers at the imagery.  “Doesn’t look like it hit anything, thank God.”

Tony snorts.  “On the other hand, it could have at least had the courtesy to take out a couple of meth labs.”

He’s still squinting at the object, trying to make out what the pixelated image could be, when Natasha pulls them into a deep dive.  Soon enough, Tony can see it from the window—and instantly knows that they’re dealing with something more than an oversized drone.  From through the billowing dust, Tony can tell it’s got hulking wings, broken apart from the rough landing.  Possible passenger pod in its center.  And the color- is that orange?

Rhodey lets out a low whistle and adjusts his nanotech housing.  “That’s not something you see every day.”

Natasha circles the scene, scanning the ship for signs of life.  “There’s too much residual heat from the crash to show anything,” she says, “we’re gonna have to wait it out, or go in blind.”

Steve is already suited up, standing up from his seat.  Tony can see him practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.  He’s been cooped up too long, too ready for a fight.  “We’ll go in.  Let’s take ‘em by surprise, before Fury can pull us back.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but he’s filled to the brim with the same impatient energy.  He’s spent what’s felt like lifetimes his lab, prying apart these objects that crash to Earth, microscopes and tweezers and needles, delicate hours that have amounted to near nothing.  He’s ready to blast first and ask later, he’s ready for violence and destruction and an unquestionable victory.  It’s dangerous, but that’s what he’s looking for.

So Natasha puts down the jet neatly at the edge of the crater.  Coms are checked, suits are donned.  The team emerges, scrambling down the rim, Steve then Tony, then Rhodey, Bucky, Sam and Nat.  Bruce stays back, ready to receive Fury and whoever else shows up.  They fall naturally into a wedge, just like they have so many times in training. 

The dust still falls around them, smoke blows into the air.  It wraps around Tony’s mask, thicker with each step he takes.  Something familiar bites at the back of Tony’s mind, begging for recognition, but he ignores it because he knows he can’t identify it.

He can hear Rhodey and Bucky by his side more than he can see them.  Their shallow breaths echo through the coms, gravel grating underfoot.  Steve whispers as they approach the ship, sharp eyes picking up what Tony’s technology can’t—“On my signal, I bust the glass, then we’ll clear this main chamber.”

Somewhere, Tony knows he should suggest sending out a drone.  He should offer a secondary sweep with his suit’s sensors before Steve busts in.  But he doesn’t, because he wants to hear the shattering of glass.  He wants to ride this rising anxiety all the way to its peak, and slide down its other side.  He wants to be reckless, even if it means—

_BOOM_

_BOOM_

Tony can’t see it, but he knows Steve is throwing his strength at the window of the ship and it’s still holding up.  Blindly, Tony rushes to the front.  He holds Steve back with one hand, charges his other glove before he fires with its full strength.  The light is blinding, the sound enormous, but the window shatters.

They’ve lost the element of surprise, but that’s alright.  They never had much of a plan anyways.  Steve leaps through the window in front of Tony, and before he knows it, the whole team piles in from behind.  The chamber is near pitch black, closed off from the sun and choked with dust and smoke.  Tony illuminates a hand, but it’s like throwing on your blinders in the fog—more harm than help.

“Can anyone see what the fuck-“ Bucky is cut off with a gasp.  Tony can hear an impact, hear him slide across the floor, hit a wall.

And then it’s chaos.  Something slams Tony from the slide, shoves him to the ground.  Lights are flashing, he can’t tell if they’re coming from Rhodey or Sam or someone else.  He hears Natasha struggling somewhere to his left, but as soon as he leaps up to reach for her, he’s thrown to the opposite wall.  It’s like a ghost is grabbing him, pulling him from different directions until he’s too dizzy to know where he is. 

Steve breathes heavy over the comms.  “We need to get out of here,” his voice becomes an order.  “Get back outside, take this fight back into the light—” he cuts off, and Tony hears someone hit the ground.

“Easier said than done,” grunts Sam, “Nat and I are tied up back here, or something.  You guys need to draw them out.”

At that, Tony blasts his repulsors, and hears Rhodey doing the same.  They break back through the glass, back to the outside, ready for whatever’s fighting them to follow.  Tony turns back to the ship, just in time to catch a glimpse of Steve’s sandy hair hanging out of the broken window.  A hand holds him momentarily in the air before flinging him out, towards the gravel.  Steve hits the ground before Tony can move, makes an astonishingly hard impact.  But he’s rolling, he’s blinking, he’s fine.  Tony’s eyes trace back up to the shattered windows, and the hand moves out of the darkness and into the light and becomes a person.

But it’s not a person.  It’s a kid covered in dust, dust that clings to gashes and dried blood and the holes in his uniform and settles in his hair.  It’s a kid whose shoulders are heaving, whose eyes are panicked and darting.  It’s a kid who is a ghost, whose gravestone stands in a cemetery in New York.

And before Tony even knows that he’s moving, his feet hit the ground.  His suit melts away from around him, back into his chest where he’s not entirely sure if his heart is beating or even still in his body.  He stumbles through the gravel, through the clearing dust and smoke, to the shadow in front of him.

Then he’s there, and brown eyes are blinking at him, wide with shock, and Tony can’t look away.  _Please_.  He hears the words so loud in his head, he almost says them aloud.  _I don’t know what’s happening._   Tony reaches out, hands grabbing the arms of the kid who is supposed to be a ghost.  _Please._    Tony’s not sure what he’s waiting for, not sure what he’s even expecting, but then he feels the kid’s whole weight fall into his arms.

“ _Mr. Stark_ …”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wink n' a nod.  
> Comments appreciated and encouraged :)


	4. Chapter 4

Tony’s not sure how long they stand there.

He’s not even sure if his eyes are open. He only feels the rough rhythm of the kid’s breath, uses the sharp rise and fall prove to himself that this is real, that this is proof that the kid is back and alive. But it can’t be—he felt the kid disappear, didn't he?  With the red and the dust and---

_“Mr. Stark…”_

He hears it again, a whisper. Slowly, he pulls his face out of the kid’s hair. He looks down to his face, but before he knows it, the kid is swaying.

He realizes, then, that he was less embracing the kid and more holding him up. He lowers him to his knees, tries to get a glimpse of the kid’s brown eyes as they start to shudder closed. His hands are tight around the kid’s arms as they both sink to the ground.

“Kid—it’s—that’s you, right?”

It’s stupid, but it’s the only thing he can think to say. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s cataloging the blood, both dried and dripping off the kid, with alarm. But before he can think to ask about any of that, the kid’s body is completely limp, his chin dropped to his chest.

"Woah woah woah--- Steve—Rhodey—someone get over here! The kid—” Boots crunch across the gravel, and before he knows it, Rhodey and Steve are both lowering the kid onto his back.

Tony stays where he is, rocks cutting into his knees, and he can’t do anything but stare. In front of him, Rhodey peels up the kid’s eyelid as Steve tries to rouse him.

“Peter,” Steve shakes a shoulder, “can you hear me?”

It takes Steve saying the kid’s name to jolt Tony out of whatever trance set in. _Peter._ He stumbles, still on his knees, across the rocks to Peter’s side, clasps his hand on the kid’s opposite shoulder and notes, with relief, that the kid is starting to stir.

“Wha---” he mumbles, “what… did I pass out?” his eyes shoot open, only to squint into the sun. He turns away, gaze catching on Tony’s.

“Hey kid,” Tony’s throat feels thick, but he tries to sound certain, “you’re ok, you’re ok, you’re gonna be fine-“

The kid interrupts with a stutter, but picks up speed as he goes along, and soon it’s the same Peter Parker ramble that had been echoing through Tony’s conscience-- “I know, I know, it’s just— I don't- h-how did you know where to find us? We weren’t even sure where’d we make it, or like, if we’d make it. I mean I ran the calculations, but like I didn’t expect a whole welcome par- wait, what’s in your hair?” the kid interrupts himself, frowning.

Tony’s free hand flies to his scalp, and before he knows it, he’s smiling. “It’s just grey hair.” Despite himself, he starts laughing. “God, you should see yours, coated in dust and grime and you're still trying to talk shit—”

Pete’s smiling back. Then Tony’s words hit and the expression on his face freezes. “Grey hair?”

Before Tony can craft a response, a slight shock shudders through the ground. Rhodey is on his feet, suited up, weapons ready to engage the figure standing between them and the downed aircraft.

“Awww, man!” Tony hears an unfamiliar voice, as something stomps towards them, “What’d you do to Little Pete?”

Rhodey stays firm. “Don’t come any closer, unless you want that alien head blasted the fuck off your alien neck.” Tony hears the sound of something- a mask?- retracting.

“Who you calling an alien?  I’m from here, too, ya dipshit.”

Tony feels Peter shifting beneath the hands still firmly planted on his shoulders. “ ‘m okay, ‘m okay,” he works his way to a sitting position, despite Tony and Steve’s protests. He turns his head, calls out to Rhodey- “He’s cool, he’s cool, that’s just Big Pete!” He directs anxious eyes to Tony. “Peter Quill, he helped me get back here and all…”

Tony sucks in a breath. “Rhodey, he’s good, you can let him go. And, uh, why don’t you go and let Bruce know….” He waves his hand vaguely over the scene.

“Got it.” Rhodey blasts off to the Quinjet. Tony hopes he’s reading his mind, as he usually does, and knows what he’s asking for—they’re gonna need Bruce filled in, they’re gonna need some kind of medical setup, and they’re gonna need to keep Fury and the rest of the world far, far away until they figure this shit out.

As Rhodey retreats, the space-guy—Peter Quill—steps forward. Tony’s eyes trace over his red leather jacket, covered in dust like the rest of him—and for some reason the word _plucky_ surfaces suddenly in his mind.  He shakes the thought away and instead focuses his effort on pushing a struggling Peter back to the ground. He notices, for the first time, how skinny the kid is beneath whatever jeans and t-shirt he’s decked out in.  He can feel his ribs through his t-shirt, his whole emaciated body shaking.

“No, no, I’m fine Mr. Stark, I’m totally, totally—” his face pales, and Tony readies to catch him again—“OhmygodItotallywebbedupBlackWidowandFalcon.”

Tony blinks, sees a similar expression on Steve’s face. “What?”

“I just—they were coming at me so fast, and it was dark, and I got kinda tossed around when we were landing…”

Conveniently, Nat and Sam sidle into view from behind Quill, and Tony’s confusion is abated when he sees them both pulling webs off their arms. Peter just stammers “I am soooo sorry, guys…”

“It’s okay, kid,” Natasha smiles, “I think we can forgive a little premature webbing, given the situation.”

“It’s not like this is my first rodeo with this shit” Sam mutters.

Peter’s face reddens as he struggles to his feet, pushing off Tony and Steve with strength he shouldn’t have. “I’m good, seriously.”

“No, he’s not.” Quill rolls his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. He catches a betrayed glare from Peter. “What? You’re not. I’m not. It’s totally chill."  He smacks his hands together, looking towards the Quinjet.  "So, uh….you think your pals got any food?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break, everyone! I'm still interested in writing this piece, but since the release of Endgame and FFH, I figured I'd post a shorter update to see if people were still interested in reading. So, let me know!
> 
> Thanks, guys!


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